


Racing Hearts

by clightlee



Category: Star Stable
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clightlee/pseuds/clightlee
Summary: Some New Jorvegian heroes band together to deafeat a new evil among them. That evil? Tax evasion.Will Ariana ever get to take Rania skinnydipping? Will Zoe and Carina ever get their Stonegrounds to sit still long enough to have their picture taken? Will the Madame maintain her anonymity? Will Eden and Viv ever get paid for their labors? And will Clara and Josh finally reconcile for good? Guess we'll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Relationships: Ariana Wolffall (OC)/Rania Varanger, Carina Lightlee (OC)/Nic Stoneground, Eden Dawnvalley (OC)/Alonso, Zoe Starfire (OC)/Mica Stoneground
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13
Collections: SSO Wild West AU





	1. A Smudge is Born

**Author's Note:**

> Original characters belong to the following tumblr users:
> 
> Ariana Wolffall- inappropriatestarstable  
> Clara Diamondsong- clara-diamondsong  
> Eden Dawnvalley- sso-eden-dawnvalley  
> Miranda Shadowborn- mirandashadowborn  
> Viv Strongarm- vivienne-strongarm  
> Zoe Starfire- jinxkitycat

Dawn was breaking over the valley as Eden Dawnvalley struck out down the road leading West out of New Jorvik.

The poetry of the setting was not lost on her. 

The year-old filly she and Phoenix were leading gave her head a festive toss. It was a promising morning, spring once again finding its way up the slopes of the Silvers. Alonso was home on furlough, the Dawnvalley herds were thriving, and the turmoil of the preceding years felt like a distant memory.

“Morning, Eden.” Viv Strongarm’s voice, lilting up from the road behind her, snapped Eden out of her reverie, and the rhythmic trot of Stormsong’s hooves punctuated the awakening. The healer reined in to fall into step with Eden, and both were enveloped in a cloud of fragrant herbal aromas wafting from Viv’s saddlebags. 

“Delivering to Doc Eiren?” Eden deduced, letting her eyes flutter shut as the gorgeous cocktail of thyme, yarrow, feverfew, and valerian invaded her senses.

Viv chuckled. “Naturally. And I suppose you’re taking this lovely girl in for a checkup?”

“Yeah, she’s recovering from a run-in with some nasty brambles,” Eden replied. “Thanks for the goldenseal paste, by the way, Mardi’s nose is-”

A voice carried to them from up ahead, around the bend. Eden and Viv exchanged grins and listened:

“Of course I remembered the strawberries, you turkey,” Ariana Wolffall was telling her horse. Lion gave a gusty snort and Ariana tutted. “And the lemonade, the blankets...” 

Despite being perhaps the most glamorous woman on this side of the divide, Ariana was well-known for talking to her horse when she thought nobody was listening. Her friends found it endearing.

“Ariana!” Viv hailed her as they rounded the bend. Ariana reined in and the three riders proceeded abreast. “Looks like Rania’s in for a treat,” Viv winked, conspiratorially. 

Ariana pinked beneath her full face of makeup. “We’re headed up to the hotsprings for a brunch picnic.” _A brunch picnic sans clothing._ It was finally warm enough to justify such an excursion but still chilly enough that they were sure to have the place to themselves. 

“Couldn’t ask for a better day for it,” Viv commented, but their gaze was already caught by a greasy smudge of black smoke just rising over the hills to their North. “You two know a thing about that?”

Eden glanced over and wrinkled her nose. “Looks like it’s coming from Buttergoods’. Or maybe Mr. Peterson’s? Their spreads share a fenceline for miles and miles.”

Ariana sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of Junior’s or Scott’s schemes. They lost a fortune in stocks when Dark Corps folded, and they’ve been trying to make it up ever since. Mostly with dynamite.”

Viv shook their head. “I’m delivering old Valdemar’s weekly honey order on my way back from Eiren and Sigry’s. I’ll see what intelligence I can gather, but the old man usually just rambles at me. He’s not up to date on his sons’ activities.”

  
  


Presently the three riders dismounted in the Varanger-Doyle dooryard. Eiren bustled out to pay Viv and take stock of Eden’s filly while Ariana led Lion into the barn in search of Rania. She found her arguing with her mother, the town’s mayor.

“...next there’ll be dogfights and cockfights and- Ariana!” Rania heard her girlfriend from across the barn and turned, beaming. “I was just trying to persuade Mama to go shut down the Buttergoods’ gambling hell before it turns New Jorvik into the next Dodge City.”

Sigry pursed her lips. “Again, darling, it’s just a racetrack as far as we know, and it’s not even open yet. I have no just cause to search the premises just because the two older Buttergood boys are roughnecks.”

“It has ‘illegal’ written all over it, Mama,” Rania sighed, and continued saddling Delingr. After a moment she turned back to Ariana, brightening. “I have tea and cake for our picnic! I’ve been looking forward to it for-”

“Ride safe, girls,” Sigry called as she strode back to the house. As soon as she was out of earshot Rania dropped her cheery voice.

“You don’t mind if we stop by the new racetrack on our way to the hot springs, do you?” she muttered. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Of course,” Ariana agreed, trying to quiet the goosebumps tracing their way up her arms.

  
  
  


Meanwhile, across town, a small crowd was gathering by the train station. Photographers from every paper in the county were fussing with their tents and tripods at the trackside. A coterie of onlookers was intently studying the three well-dressed people waiting behind a velvet rope- the only velvet rope in New Jorvik, trotted out for this occasion.

“This is uncomfortable in a multitude of ways,” mumbled the burly man at the right of the three, tugging at his necktie.

“It’ll be over soon enough,” sighed the upright woman in the middle, adjusting her plumed hat. “How are you faring Mad- Senora?”

Senora Nacida y Oscuridad side-eyed through her black lace mourning veil. “I’m in accord with Stoneground,” she muttered. “Widow’s weeds are the last thing I want to be wearing.” She wafted herself with a black satin fan. Disguises were not her favorite anymore.

All three breathed a sigh of relief when the plume of grey smoke from the locomotive finally appeared on the horizon, but Carina put a stilling hand on both Nic and Miranda’s arms and jerked her chin the other way, Northwest, where an oily cloud of black smoke marred the pristine desert sky. 

“That ain’t no locomotive,” Miranda drawled for comic affect.

Carina shook her head. “Trouble brewing for sure,” she commented. “Good thing we have an aeronaut and a Broadway star about to land on our doorstep. I get the feeling that their skills will be needed in not-too-long.”

“It’s about time we had another adventure anyway,” Nic grinned. “I’ve not recognized a face on a wanted poster for what seems like years.”

As the train chugged closer and the crowd held its breath, one Wanted face also watched from the hillside. She hadn’t seen New Jorvik for some time now, and as much as she hated the feeling, it was good to be home.

That black cloud would demand her attention soon. For now, she watched and waited. 


	2. Old Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues and the stage continues to be set. Just some more exposition, friends, srry

Zoe Starfire stepped off the train to a round of applause. She still wasn’t used to being a _cause celebre_ and hoped that her fleeting smile didn’t betray that fact. 

Mica Stoneground, on the other hand, stepped off the train behind her waving like the queen of Sweden. Ever since her groundbreaking flight across Long Island Sound (it was an accident, made during Mica’s attempt to achieve a new height record) Mica had been hounded by the press and took a cheeky delight in answering their questions in as indirect a way as possible. Zoe supposed that she could learn a thing or two from her friend/confidant/ex-girlfriend’s elan, but almost a week staring at each other from across a crowded train car made Zoe more prone to taking Mica by the lapels and kissing her, “taking a break” be damned.

She wiped those thoughts from her face when her eyes lit on her welcoming committee: Nic Stoneground, there to bearhug his niece; Carina, the librarian, with a warm hug waiting; and… Zoe bit back a huge grin. “Senora! I didn’t know you’d be making an appearance!”

Miranda still wore a hint of her old French perfume under the layers of black crepe. The smell took Zoe back through the years as her mother enveloped her in an embrace. “I hardly know who or where I am these days,” Miranda whispered, though anyone who might have overheard would have assumed age to be the culprit rather than juggling aliases. Miranda used a beak-headed cane and full-face veil as if they were her true accessories rather than props.

“It’s good to see you, whoever you are,” Zoe whispered right back.

“Miss Starfire? A photograph?” The reporters were circling closer.

Carina held up a hand. “Just… two, I think. Miss Starfire and Miss Stoneground have had a long journey.”

Mica mouthed “Thank you” over the shoulders of the photographers who quickly swarmed the group. As Zoe shuffled into the space indicated by one reporter, where the lighting was just right, she noticed a black cloud on the horizon. She tried to catch Mica’s eye.

“Please, miss, over here-”

Not even back in New Jorvik a full five minutes and it already looked as though trouble was brewing.

  
  
  


Viv and Eden trotted up the road to the Buttergood homestead, practicing their winning smiles. 

“I just hope the nice one’s there to deal with. What’s his name?” Eden puzzled.

“Bobby’s the humble one. Valdemar’s the old one. Junior’s the bossy one. Scott’s...” Viv chewed on their lip, seeking the right descriptor. “Scott’s the one that believes in vampires.”

“So… the dim one?”

“Dim but dangerous. And I heard tell there was another one, Maurice, who got blown up in the old country when he fought a duel next to a gunpowder factory. Tore a canyon worthy of the name through solid granite.”

Eden wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like something that would happen here. No wonder they immigrated.”

“It’s my understanding that Bobby’s the only one with a bit of horse sense so you should be able to talk your way into their stables,” Viv continued. “I’ll take whoever comes out to collect the honey.”

“Deal.”

  
  


From their perch on the bluff above the Buttergood spread, Ariana and Rania watched their friends approach the ranch house. Rather, Ariana did. 

“How many Butterbads are coming out?” Rania asked. She’d pulled a bandana over her nose to block out the smell of acrid smoke. Ariana thought she looked like the most adorable outlaw in the West.

“I see… two,” Ariana said, wilting. She saw Eden following one towards the stables- Scott, based on his bowlegged swagger- while Viv doffed their hat to a shadowy figure on the porch. She described the scene to Rania. “Can’t tell if the honeybuyer is Junior, Bobby, or Valdemar though.”

“Look sharp. Viv will lure him out,” Rania said wisely.

Sure enough, in a minute or two Viv had coaxed the Buttergood out from the shade of the porch to peer at something in Stormsong’s saddlebag. Ariana could almost feel Viv trying not to look up at the bluff to acknowledge her presence. The plan she and Rania had worked out with Eden and Viv was simple yet elegant, and so far it was working well.

“My money’s on that being Junior. Which means we should take our chances that Bobby’s controlling the burn,” Ariana muttered. She looked towards the smoke, boiling up one hill away.

Rania was already turning Delingr towards the ostensible blaze. 

“He’s supposed to be the reasonable one, but I’ve never met him,” Rania said, brow furrowed. “Have you ever…?”

Ariana knew that Rania knew about her profession- more and more a former profession every day, as she worked to turn the old Calico into a hotel, though bills still needed paying- and also knew that Rania was incredibly sensitive to Ariana’s worry that Rania would be incredibly sensitive to- there were lots of feelings involved, simply put. Although Ariana knew that her girlfriend didn’t judge her nocturnal activities, it had been some time since Ariana was so devoted to someone. It made her think.

“No, not him,” Ariana mused.

They crested the hill and Ariana put a hand out to stop Rania and Delingr behind the shelter of a boulder.

The racetrack was a smouldering black ellipse in the golden bunchgrass. Clearly the Buttergoods had burned it to clear off the brush, a common practice in open country like theirs. Responsible earthworks had been dug around the perimeter; that wasn’t suspicious. What was suspicious was the oily smoke; the intense smell; and the heat still shimmering off ground that looked long since immolated. 

Rania was on the same page. “Not your average burn. Why must we always be subject to geological anomalies?”

“Why indeed?” 

The new voice was unfamiliar to Ariana’s ears, but the feel of a pistol’s eye against her back was, sadly, an old acquaintance.


	3. Bad Tidings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The news just keeps gettin' worser.

Viv yawned and stretched their sinewy limbs at the bar, swivelling around to see if anyone else had arrived for the rendezvous. 

“Drink?” Eden bustled out from the back room, playing barmaid out of habit. No matter who owned the Wolfpack, Eden always seemed to make herself at home, and her friends reaped the rewards. 

“Whaddaya got?” Viv eyed the bottles lined up along the spotted mirror behind Eden.

“That water’s not so bad.” Mica was drinking (her water) alone at the end of the bar, supposedly reading a week-old paper, giving Zoe time to catch up with her mother-in-disguise.

(“It’s  _ entirely fine  _ to take a break, Zoe,” Miranda was muttering. “You haven’t seen each other for months, you’ve not had a chance to talk in private, you’re still both young, you could be entirely different people-”

“I’m not  _ that  _ young anymore, Senora,” Zoe riposted.

Miranda snorted. A ladylike snort. “Well you’re here now, and New Jorvik has a way of throwing people back together, Aideen love it.” She cut her eyes over to where Nic and Carina were consulting a map, Nic’s hand resting on the librarian’s whalebone waist. She could tell that they, too, had some communication issues to work out by Carina’s posture; rustling Nic out of the mountains in time for him to receive his niece had been no small feat.

Zoe frowned and sipped her whiskey on the rocks. “That’s what I’m worried about. I have too much at stake in New York to settle out here with an aeronaut wife, living out someone else’s pastoralist fantasy.”

Miranda gave her daughter’s nose an affectionate poke. “I missed your mastery of the English language, Miss Starr,” she chuckled.)

“...and a local peach moonshine that’ll turn your hair white,” Eden concluded, rattling off the bar’s liquid offerings, using her fingers to count. Her engagement ring caught the light and glittered in the most satisfying way. Its small garnet, set in a golden band, was usually safe under leather gloves and it was still a pleasant surprise to see it smiling up at her at the end of the day. 

“Hit me,” Viv grinned, game for peach moonshine. “Ariana and Rania are late enough to give me pause, and if we have to go save them from a scrape I might as well be in disguise.”

“Suit yourself.” Eden began to pour when the door slammed open, admitting not Ariana and Rania, but-

_ Clara? _

Clara had the look of a stormcloud about her, and everyone in the Wolfpack searched back through their memories to see if this was usual. They hadn’t seen her in… a year? More?

“What brings you back to town?” Carina said evenly by way of greeting.

Clara nudged the brim of her hat in response. “Bad tidings, I’m afraid.”

Zoe snuck a peek over at Mica, who met her eyes with a look of excitement. She’d heard all of Zoe’s and Nic’s tales of the wild West, and this was already shaping up to be one hell of a vacation/press tour.

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with the smoke at Buttergood’s, their quasi-legal racetrack, and the absence of Ariana and Rania, would it?” Viv asked wryly.

Clara made finger guns and flashed a grin. “Bing-o. Unfortunately I’m just the messenger but, long story short, racetrack’s a racketeering scam, Ariana’s been loosely kidnapped, and Junior’s blackmailing me into helping him catch people in said racketeering scam.”

Carina met Clara’s eyes with a sideways tilt of her head. Clara grimaced in return as if to say, loud and clear, “Josh.” This was a predictable turn of events. 

“Where’s Rania?” Zoe wanted to know.

“Buttergoods let her go. Even _ they _ don’t dare kidnap the mayor’s daughter in broad daylight and with no pretense,” Clara said, plopping into a seat at the bar. Eden slid her a bourbon, neat, and went back to battling the ever-dirty glass. “But I get the impression that that’s why they’re holding Ariana; I wasn’t in the room, but I’m near sure they made threats at Rania, telling her they’d do something awful to Ariana if she brought Sigry’s fury down upon them.” Clara tossed back her glass with a frown.

“And the smoke?” Viv prompted.

Clara shoved the thought out the door. “Just Buttergoods being Buttergoods, showing little to no respect for our natural world. Burning stubble off the infield. With paraffin, I think.”

Viv chewed their lip pensively, absorbing this chemical fact.

Eden set (slammed) the glass down with more force than was necessary. “I found three lame horses in their stables this morning, clearly put away wet and improperly exercised.  _ That _ wasn’t criminal, sadly. But now they’ve kidnapped Ariana and are extorting at least three people? And their racetrack isn’t even operational yet???”

“Loosely.”

“What?”

“They’ve loosely kidnapped Ariana. You know as well as I that she’d clean their clocks and break out, if she thought that was prudent. Another thing.” Clara swung her pack down from her back and unrolled a poster on the bar. Everyone crowded around to see. It read:

**Grand opening**

THURSDAY NITE!!!

The Infamous

BUTTERGOOD DOWNS

_ Presents _

THE BLOODSTOCK CUP

$500 entrance fee

Miranda whistled low, and then scooted back into the shadows, veil drawn once more. She used to trust Clara, but, in league with the Buttergoods? Nah.

“That’s tomorrow,” sighed Zoe, rubbing the bridge of her nose where her glasses had sat. Now she was never going to get a quiet evening to talk to Mica alone.

“They’ve only got three contenders so far, so get yourselves a champion as soon as you can raise a massive fortune,” Clara sighed ruefully. She slid off of her stool and headed for the door. “I’d pay in to see you win.”

“Where do we find you?” Zoe called after her.

Clara turned back with a cocked eyebrow. “Buttergood’s, naturally. They just about own me by now.” And she strode out into the sun, shoulders carrying defeat.

  
  
  


“More wine?”

Ariana glared at Junior from across the table, stood, grabbed the bottle from his pale hand, and filled her glass to the brim while maintaining steely eye contact.

“You and your hifalutin' girlfriend certainly made our lives easier, riding right into our plan,” Junior continued. “We was just figurin’ how to get the mayor in thrall...”

“What did you do with Rania?” Ariana growled, for the umpteenth time. 

The minute she’d felt Clara Diamondsong’s pistol pressing into her back earlier today, she’d known that her hot spring date was sunk. 

“Nothing personal, hon, you’d do it for love too,” Clara had sighed as she’d frog marched Ariana and Rania back to the Buttergood place. Ariana had cast her gaze back at the track, praying that Bobby- Bobby had to be the one responsible for the burn, right?- would appear, but no dice. Clara had delivered she and Rania to smug smirks of Junior and Scott, who had promptly separated them, confiscated their horses and weapons, and ordered Ariana to go upstairs and change into “something more feminine.” Which she did, after (1) spitting in Scott’s face; (2) being told that Rania’s safety was dependent on her cooperation, and (3) angrily acquiescing. 

“Never you mind about the Varanger girl,” Junior drawled. “Just do as you’re told and she’ll not lose any of her other senses.” He sipped his whiskey casually. 


	4. I Love it When a Plan Comes Together?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan starts to come together, as do old flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Zoe   
> and   
> You're awesome Eden! 
> 
> And Ruth belongs to ruth-westside on tumblr

“Pass the canteen, hmm?”

Eden grumbled good-naturedly and passed the waterskin to Viv, who traded her for the telescope. Eden fitted the glass to her eye, squinting through the darkness and the crackling flames of trackside torches. In a flash of blackness, a horse and rider flew through her line of vision and out again in a blink.

“Shit, there’s no way we can tell who that is,” Eden sighed.

Viv corked the canteen. “Sure wasn’t any of the horses I’ve treated. None of them could run like that.”

“I guess we have to figure on plan B, then.” Eden took another peek at the track; the horse and rider were rounding the bend, nothing more than a flash of darkness against the torchlight. 

“Give-” Viv gently appropriated the telescope and squinted intently. 

Eden held her breath. It stood to reason that the healer had sharp eyesight, but could-

Viv closed the telescope with a click of finality. “Eden?”

“...Yes?”

“Do we know anyone with prematurely silver hair?”

_ Shit.  _

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense.

Even though the sun rose the next morning on a schoolday, the one-room schoolhouse was packed hours before the bell rang. Diana, Zoe’s successor as schoolmarm, had unlocked the doors at 6 o’clock sharp for her mentor without questions. She hadn’t batted an eye when a seemingly random assortment of townsfolk, including everyone from the mayor to a dusty individual who’d arrived on a mule, trooped inside. 

Carina and Eden served a round of coffee. 

Zoe rapped her pointer on the chalkboard vigorously once everyone had settled in. It was good to be back in her classroom, even if she tread a different set of boards these days. This was where she’d learned to school her features, project, recall and recite for a crowd. She suppressed a giggle at Nic Stoneground’s hunched figure, barely contained by one of the smallest desks, and began without ado:

“This is what we know:”

She sketched a gridwork of sections- parcels of land- and circled two. She labelled them “Buttergood” and “Peterson.”

“So we all know that the Buttergoods have built a racetrack on their property and are somehow blackmailing both Clara Diamondsong and Ariana Wolffall to do…  _ something _ for them. They’re trying to make money off a racetrack of dubious legality.” She began listing names on the board. “Our intelligence discovered last night that one Josh, foreman of the Peterson ranch, is training racehorses for them. Probably riding for their interests as well. Clara-” she drew an arrow between names on the board- “has courted Josh in the past, which leads us to believe that the Buttergoods are using Josh’s safety as collateral for Clara’s complicity, just as they’re likely using Rania’s safety to control Ariana.”

At least three stifled yawns punctuated the following silence.

Mayor Sigry raised her hand politely. “I have more questions now than I did before, Miss Starfire. Foremost: why?” She squeezed her daughter’s hand with her other.

Zoe was nodding, about to launch into another explanation, when a new voice cleared its throat.

All heads turned to see the newcomer- the one who’d arrived on a mule.

The newcomer slid a letter across their desk to Miranda, who lifted her veil to squint at it, and handed it up to Zoe.

Zoe scanned the letter, then read it aloud.

“Addressed to Ruth Slorach:

Enclosed is a five-dollar piece, an advance payment for your services promoting the Buttergoods’ Bloodstock Cup. Your duties will include sharpshooting, trick riding, and whatever extraneous duties your employer sees fit.” 

It was signed _Valdemar Buttergood._

“Trick riding?” Zoe asked, eyebrows raised,

Ruth sent a paper airplane to Zoe. She opened it, revealing a printed poster advertising the Sensational Silent Shooter and her Sidekick, Daring Dazzling Deeds of Derring-Do.

“Didn’t write the poster myself,” muttered Ruth under her breath, looking down.

“Have you spoken to your employer yet? Do you know why they’re doing this?” Zoe asked, trying to keep her voice from rising in curiosity and a wee bit of desperation.

Ruth produced something small and round from the pocket of her duster and whinged it to Nic Stoneground, who caught it sleepily. He turned the thing over in his hands and then straightened. He held the thing- a rock- above his head.

“Shale. Marine invertebrate fossils, lines of gypsum, and notable ferrous composition,” he sighed, resigned even at such an early hour. “I hate to break it to y’all, but it appears that the Buttergoods have struck oil somewhere. Odds are, it’s on their border with Peterson.”

_ The weird smell on the burning land. The oily smoke yesterday. The fact that good-as-gold Josh was being used for nefarious purposes. _

Suddenly, it all made more sense.

  
  


Later that day, Miranda dismounted at the Peterson ranch house. It looked slightly neglected; she narrowed her eyes at the tumbleweeds congregating around the front steps. She knew that Lisa, old Peterson’s daughter, was off on a prolonged Australian holiday with her wife, Louisa, but they’d set up their own spread near the doctor’s office years ago. There was nothing either youthful or feminine about this place.

Peterson had come here on an oil company’s dime, hadn’t he?

Had he known that he’d bought a chunk of oil-rich property, before he left?

Miranda was in yet another disguise. It was a past persona that included a ruby brooch the size of a quail’s egg and a parasol. She'd been out of town long enough that Josh- never a regular at the Calico- or any other Peterson ranchhands wouldn't recognize her, but it was always good to take precautions. She cast a look skyward before striding over to the bunkhouse- she’d heard a sound from the bunkhouse- and rapping on the door with as much desperation as she could summon in a pinch.

The man who threw the door open was silver of hair and wild of eye.  _ This was too easy.  _ Miranda channeled her daughter’s thespian ways and executed a grand faint into the building. She tried not to smirk on the way down at her excellent form.

Meanwhile, on the next parcel over, Scott Buttergood raised yet another lunchtime toast to Ariana across the Buttergood banquet table. She wondered if they ever got tired of showing off their old country wealth. Then again, it seemed like they hadn’t had a guest in years. _Maybe_ that's _why I've been kidnapped._

“To new ventures,” he said diplomatically, but Ariana got the impression that he wasn’t talking racetracks. She suppressed an eyeroll.

The three assembled Buttergoods drank deeply; Ariana took the opportunity to cut her eyes over to Clara, who was guarding the door, picking at her cuticles with a pencil stub.

_ No, not cuticles. _

Clara also took the opportunity of Buttergood quaffing to meet Ariana’s eye and jerk her chin down. Ariana followed the trajectory of the note Clara had written into a potted plant. She’d need to manufacture a good excuse to go retrieve it in private, but it’s not like she had much else to do besides worry over Rania. The last twenty-four hours had been spent entirely in vain, as far as news of Rania was concerned. She’d been locked in her room and trotted out at meal times with only one phrase to chew on: “Remember, her safety’s in your hands.”

“To new ventures indeed,” drawled Junior Buttergood. “Now, Miz Ariana, here’s how you're going to help us...”

150 feet above Miranda, Ariana, and Clara’s approximate positions, Zoe and Mica were squashed into a wattle-and-daub balloon basket. They were ostensibly looking for fencelines and burned areas and Buttergood encroachment onto Peterson land, but the balloon was making it difficult. 

“Uncle Nic’s enthusiasm sometimes clouds his mathematical judgment,” Mica sighed, gunning the burner to keep them from losing altitude. “I wouldn’t use this thing if we had another option.”

“At least he had an unobtrusive balloon just kind of hanging around,” Zoe replied, arms folded and gazing out over the sweeping landscape. “The same could not be said of all uncles.”

Mica grinned at Zoe sheepishly from under her fringe of inky hair, and Zoe’s heart did a little leap. “Yeah, I admit it’s good to be here. You were right.”

Zoe raised her eyebrows. “So  _ now _ I’m right?” She mentally made an effort to turn off her teacher voice; teacher voices weren’t sexy.

Mica busied herself adjusting sandbags. “You’re always right,” she muttered. “Look, I’m sorry I said… everything.” She turned suddenly and leaned back on her elbows, facing Zoe. It felt like the first time they’d been able to speak eye to eye, in private, in absolute ages. Zoe felt her heart melt.

“I guess I thought, with me gone and flying all the time, you’d get sick of waiting around. You know, surrounded by all those glamorous theater types and adoring crowds.” Mica shot her another butterfly-inducing smile. “I like to escape before the world can disappoint me.”

Zoe reached for Mica's hand without realized she was doing so. “What did I ever do to make you think I’d disappoint you?” she exclaimed.

Mica, in a profound return to her pre-fame character, pulled Zoe in for a massive Stoneground bearhug. “Nothing,” she murmured into the top of Zoe’s head. “Absolutely nothing at all.”

Zoe managed to come up for air right under Mica's ear. "Then _why_ aren't you kissing me right now?"  
  


Mica's eyes fluttered shut; she was going in for a legendary airborne snog. But she pulled back at the last minute, saying around a laugh, "I missed your teacher voice, darling."

And after that Zoe forgot all about the balloon, so wrapped up was she in a kiss long overdue.

Eden, Carina, and Viv watched the balloon’s progress from horseback. Ruth had joined them in silence. They were ready to provide assistance should the lighter-than-air craft decide to return to earth ahead of schedule.

“There’s one thing I can’t figure out,” Viv was saying, idly braiding a lock of Stormsong’s mane.

“We’ve now observed the Buttergoods from numerous vantage points, performing numerous tasks,” they continued, “and nobody, not a one of us, has yet to clap eyes on Bobby Buttergood.”


End file.
